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2013.09.03 - A Room with a View
Audience with the Imperator was not... impossible, nor precisely difficult. But there was that inevitable delay while Monet's references were validated- her identity confirmed, messages sent to the Imperator's receptionist. Meanwhile, Monet had been offered the extremely hospitable guest quarters reserved for visiting businessmen and dignitaries, such as heads of state. Plush without being lavish- comfortable without the sybaritic decadence of the truly pampered. Something about Bastion always seems to remind one that 'there's work to be done'. And on the way to The Spire, there was much evidence of that. Brute force mutants hauling thirty ton girders into work sites. Ferromancers welding them into place- earthcrafters melting stone and glass into awe-inspiring structures. The public trolleys, each either powered by a mutant conductor or attached to the city power grid, hum back and forth twenty feet off the ground, suspended on magnetic cable lines. The Spire's entryway was as heavily guarded as a major military facility. Multiple enfilade positions, the tingling sensation of psychic scanners, the sense of invisible eyes. Even inside Magneto's reception chambers, guards, everywhere. As Monet enters the reception room- where soft cream and dark scarlet and purple colors soften the harsh glare of stainless steel- one thing is apparent. The silver haired gentleman standing at the large windows, looking over Bastion, is either very paranoid or extremely cautious. Magneto turns and inclines his head toward Monet as she is brought into the study. "Miss St. Croix," he says, pronouncing her name with the subtle accent most Americans miss. "Welcome to Bastion," he says, moving one hand in a welcoming gesture. "How can I be of assistance?" This visit is not official in any way. It will not appear in the news. It is one of those meetings that conspiracy theorists are sure about happening. It is, though the Imperator is meeting with a nineteen year old girl whose largest contribution to the world is currently being pretty and well dressed. Monet comes with an entourage of capable but tragically human men. They are wearing suits and sunglasses. There is no pretense about what her handlers are. They carry concealed weapons and are tight with their annoyance when this inevitably becomes a problem. Monet is unperturbed. She continues without them when asked. She is at odds with her surroundings, even when she is brought into the soft concessions of the study. Her dress is simple and patternless, cut to emphasize her slender legs and neck. She wears no jewelry and carries only a small matching clutch. Her heels are of a mildly fanciful height. "Imperator," Monet replies. She stops at a respectful distance from the older man. He will be the one to decide to approach her or not. "Thank you for receiving me. You must be exceedingly busy." She pauses, turning her head to look out the same large window. Since she has arrived, no telepath has been able to breach her mind. She has no passive thoughts to read. Active attempts, if any, have been met with stern resistance. "I am afraid I have come to waste your time with youthful curiosity. I am a mutant myself. I wished to see how a mutant society could be constructed." Monet looks back to Magneto. Her expression is pleasant despite what she saw outside. "It is by the grace of my father's office that I am lucky enough to meet its leader." Magneto makes another small gesture, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly in amusement. "Youthful curiosity is a great gift, and should be cultivated whenever possible," he says in a mellifluous bass. His voice is mellow and calm, a man absolutely in control of himself and his emotions. "The daughter of Ambassador St. Croix is a person of some note. Youth or not, you've made a remarkable impact on the world- whether you know it, or not. Would you care to sit?" he invites, gesturing at a pair of chairs set at an oblique angle. "A drink, perhaps?" This is not at all the Magneto that the news has reported. He is considerate and one would even say soft-spoken, save for the resonant confidence in his tone. And there's that touch of approving amusement at his eyes- a smile that doesn't quite reach his lips. Silver hair and all, the expression makes him look decades younger. "It is currently out of vogue to suppose that the child recieves the gifts of their parent. Princes and heiresses are looked down upon and sneered at. I have observed that young royalty, properly cultivated, produces a scion who is /absolutely/ prepare to rule and lead. Ambassadors are the modern rulers of our society- I admit I, too, was curious, as to how the Ambassador's daughter would present herself. Your reputation precedes you here," he says, inclining his head to mark it a compliment. "Yes, thank you," she says in response to the first invitation. The young woman sits before answering the second: "No, thank you." Consuming food and drink are at best a kindness to be broached first by the host and at worst a weakness that a guest must never show. "You are too kind, Imperator. I am afraid that compared to your own, my reputation is sensationalized in another matter." She smiles. It is a warm smile, the kind that a person lacking confidence would take as a gesture of sympathetic pity and a person of greater self-assurance might see as exhibiting conspiratorial camaraderie. "I have had similar thoughts in recent months. I am currently seeking to further my education to that end. I was in New York yesterday, investigating this very matter. I suppose I am doing the same in Genosha today." "Audacity and theatricality are the hallmarks of notoriety," Magneto says, matching Monet's smile. "Few can claim they failed for lack of presentation." The Imperator settles comfortably into the seat, adjusting his robes of office- styled after those of an ancient Caesar, save for being rendered in some shimmering fabric- and regards Monet with an even gaze. It's an expression of myriad levels- friendly, yet aloof, and penetratingly astute. Magneto, much like Monet, seems to have the kind of face that wins poker games easily. "Genosha is fast becoming a haven for education," Magneto says readily, addressing her motives for her visit. "Our system isn't quite as... stable as the American or European collegiate system, but we have experts in many fields living with us. Anything and everything a person may wish to learn, can be learned here- and more than just the tedious lecture hall garbage of mediocre professors, trapped in academic obscurity. You will find no place in the world more dedicated to the cause of genetic research and social engineering than Genosha is." "I have noticed a distinct culture of practicality since I arrived. International accreditation must be a comparatively trivial matter," Monet agrees. She leans forward slightly, her tone becoming as eager one can socially afford in a situation like this. "Does your educational system particularly encourage a certain style of learning? Please, tell me more. At the risk of sounding egotistical, I would not be best served by a typical college education. I have studied at that level since I was young." "Do you wish to study physics? Grand! Then find a tutor, and study. Genetics? The foremost labs in the world. Botany? We have mutants among us who can tell you the very /thoughts/ of flowers." Magneto smiles earnestly and genuinely at Monet, infected by her eager tone. The teacher in him seems to react to the eager appeal of the student. "We do not believe that education stops when one is an adult, nor do we believe in lecture halls or classrooms. Instruction in a subject is given by teachers who are motivated to teach, in classes ranging from the dozens to tutelage and mentorship. Genosha rewards people for spending their time educating one another. Our children learn from the very best teachers among us, and those teachers are rewarded handsomely with luxuries and comfortable living." "Even I aid," Magneto says. "I teach particle physics and electromagnetic theory to a handful of people working in the city. Several of them are engineers and physicists themselves- one of them is studying to be one of our Academicians, and will eventually become a teacher herself. Aristotle had the correct forms when he instructed Alexander of Macedonia. We are simply emulating a centuries-old technique." Magneto clearly has Monet's attention. She rests both hands on the nearer arm rest, having turned to fully face him. It is a girlish pose to be sure, as if she were riding side saddle. "You wear your influences boldly. The audacity of naturally notorious people, of course," she says with good humor. That expression fades. Monet's eyes return to the window, contemplative. "How do you respond to criticisms leveled at your society? The U.N. has not completed their official report," she would know, apparently, "but of course public opinion is all but set. I have entertained conversations in which people have speculated at the time and date of open superheroic attack on Genosha." It does not take much digging to find that Monet St. Croix is a registered superhero herself. 'M'. This appears to be solely for tax and legal purposes. Magneto settles back into the seat again, his enthusiasm giving way to mildly guarded conversationalism as the topic changes to politics. "I need not respond to criticisms, because I do not answer to any of my critics," Magneto says, steepling his fingers. "Any attack on Genosha would be a terrible and useless gesture. How many could they muster? A dozen? A hundred? I have a hundred times that many living in Bastion alone. Nearly a hundred thousand mutants dwell on our shores." "And to what end would they attack?" he says, pressing the point. "The so-called 'American Dream'? It's been tried before, you know. 'Heroes' are the worst thing that could happen to a society, because they rally people to impractical ideas. Genosha is not a land of liberty, it is a land of /safety/. Of security." He spreads his hands. "There is no Bill of Rights here. No Magna Carta. I make my guarantees to the people and I am beholden only to them to carry them out. The mutants who come to Genosha and Bastion to dwell here do so of their own free will. They accept that a society of dreamers and innovators and nurturers, of the spirit and the mind, is better than a society of squabbling democratic ideologists and greedy communist lickspittles." "What makes Genosha great is that we are /truly/ a land of opportunity. You have the opportunity to excel to your best ability, or to work to the best of your capacity. That is all we ask of anyone who lives here. How can these 'superheroes' come to my home and threaten to tear down everything I create, when you can simply look out a window and behold... this?" He gestures at the stunning panorama of Bastion outside the window, where glistening towers and breathtaking works of architecture reach for the sky. The humming of the trolley cars, the paradise of warm weather and gentle climates... Bastion is becoming a gem in the heart of Genosha. Whatever one might say about Magneto's practices, clearly, the results leave little to be desired. Monet returns her hands to her lap and straightens her back. She continues to gaze out the window until the fervor of Magneto's response demands attention. The young woman is not taken aback and makes no attempt to mollify the depth of Magneto's feelings on the matter she raised. She is unerringly observant and thoughtful. When the Imperator again brings Bastion's skyline to the conversation, Monet dutifully follows his gesture with her eyes. "It is the only mutant society of its kind on the planet. Perhaps it is fear. Control of the underclass." "I have heard from many that are afraid of what Genosha might become. It seems that people are inclined to assume that the first acts of a world power will be to engage in international conflict." "I have heard many say that the first act should /be/ one of war- against Genosha," Magneto counters, mildly. "That we are a nation that is too powerful. Too influential. A nuclear strike would solve so many problems, would wipe the largest concentration of mutants off the face of the planet. Humanity could rally itself, prepare itself better with serums and advanced weapons, and level the playing field." "We are not an underclass here, Miss St. Croix," Magneto informs the woman. "We are perhaps the only truly egalitarian society on the planet. All we desire is to be left alone- to build our society, brick by brick, until we are a gleaming spire of hope for the future." He nods once. "I think perhaps people fear we will strike first because in their heart, they would do the same. They would lash out, given power." "I have had that power my entire life, Miss St. Croix," Magneto says, quite calmly. "I've never needed a nation behind me to justify it. Humanity has left me reasons plenty for vengeance." Something crosses his face then- a momentary look, a pang of utter loss and unquenchable rage. It's gone as fast as it arrives. "But I turn my energies to more productive venues." "I must say, you've received more of my attention than some heads of state," Magneto says with a rueful chuckle. "I seldom find reason to expound upon my political ideology. You've been quite well educated in the art of asking questions. Now, perhaps you will answer one for me, Miss St. Croix," Magneto says, leaning forward a bit, that mirthful look back in his eyes. "Why are you /really/ in Bastion?" The view from the window is cinematic in a way. Perhaps it has retained Monet's interest for so long because of the Imperator's rich narration. She does seem like she could be, in a way, the type of girl to be caught up in such things. When Magneto's expression changes, however, Monet is already watching. She quick and quiet. It is a touch of inhumanity, a reminder that she is a mutant. Maybe a predator, too. She is also the daughter of a diplomat. Monet smiles slyly, like a child who has been caught stealing cookies but knows she's not really in trouble. Her voice hints at a suppressed giggle. "You are one of the most politically significant people in the world, Imperator. You must forgive my conversational maneuvering." "I have no reason to lie. I truly am seeking to continue my education. I wish to become involved in the evolution of mutant rights." It is her turn to to have a shadow cross her face. Unlike Magneto, it is clear that it is an expression she is affecting for his benefit. Another way of sharing information, rather than a window. "I have seen abuses. I have experienced abuses. I do not wish to tolerate them. I do not wish for anyone to have to tolerate them." Magneto sits silent for a moment, letting the silence speak for him. There is a moment, there- the sort of empathy only two mutants who have been truly wronged can share. The Imperator is a complex man, both a towering figure of power and a gentle civic leader- but he's still a man, as Monet is a woman, and it seems there is a moment of simpatico. "Bastion is always welcoming new immigrants," Magneto says finally, moving the topic along. "I do not know if you're inclined to stay here or not. But you're a young woman of exceptional breeding and remarkable caliber. I suspect you would flourish here- but, then, you would flourish anyway, I'm sure," he says with a smile. "Let me clarify- here, you would be challenged. No tutors wringing their hands over your performance, no intolerable summer parties with pretenders and the trust-fund brats of indulgent parents. Here you could actually work. Could actually contribute something to the world, rather than being shunned for the gifts that make you such a formidable woman." "And you would be accepted here, despite your gifts. They can be both bane and boon- setting us apart from the people who would use them for their own advantage. Humans would use us, but never grow close to us, not while we are so much more than them. Here, that is not the case. Here, you are not defined by your powers. You have room to be..." he spreads his hands. "Yourself." "I am, if I must be honest, a citizen of the world. I would miss Paris and Monaco too much, I think," Monet says, affecting a tone of mild embarrassment. She stands, holding her clutch with both hands. Her dress and hair arrange perfectly without need for adjustment. It's a very particular technique to learn. "The media does you a disservice, Imperator. You are more well spoken in person. I do have a final question before I leave, if you would indulge me. Have you heard of the Xavier Institute and the Academy of Tomorrow? If so, I would appreciate your opinion of them." Magneto rises with a fluid motion that belies his age. "I am well acquainted with the headmasters of both," he informs Monet, his tone simple and sincere. "Charles Xavier and I were once close friends. We've drifted apart, these long years- I do owe him a visit, I suppose, as we did not leave on unkind terms. Charles believes..." He sighs. "He believes that humanity and mutants can and should co-exist. That the two species can share this world and her resources. This is, as you know, a view I do not share." "I've had the distinct pleasure of meeting Miss Frost on several occasions. Remarkable woman- such a wonderful mind. Her Academy is less... politically motivated than Charles' or mine. She simply aims to expand upon the gifts of her students, to teach them master of the self. I am currently courting her to open a second Academy here on Genosha, as her instructional methodology is quite fruitful." He holds a hand up to forestall Monet. "Before you dismiss Genosha out of hand, consider- we are a young nation. There is much we are learning about ourselves- art, culture, even the history we are living as we write it. I place no boundaries upon my citizens to stay in Bastion, or even on Genosha. A woman of your resources would have no trouble living a life she has grown accustomed to. This is not a jail," he adds. "But a home, however temporary at times, for many. You would be welcome here," he assures her with that solemn gravitas to his voice. "And I think you would find the results of your life here far more gratifying on many levels than you would at the Academy or Xavier's. They can make you stronger- can even help you justify your powers to the world. But neither of them will offer you what we have here- the chance to help build something greater than yourself. To contribute to the future of the world in a very real way." Magneto bows slightly to Monet, his head and shoulders dipping. "Farewell, Miss St. Croix. I hope you come and visit me again sometime, whatever your decision is. Your company is most assuredly welcome here." The smiling girl capable of coy moments is gone while Magneto gives his answer. Monet openly studies the Imperator: every sigh, every pause, every search for the proper word. "I could never dismiss Genosha, Imperator. Simply walking the streets has given me much to consider. If you credit some portion of your success here to presentation, then you have already taught me a valuable lesson." As Magneto bows, Monet places one foot behind another and curtseys. It is an impressive feat considering her heels. "I will write to you with my decision as soon as I have made it, Imperator. Thank you for your time and for the invitation. I am already looking forward to my next visit. Good day and good luck." Monet turns and leaves the study. Her guards have grown anxious. They are disciplined men who have undergone anti-telepathic training. It is not enough. She was in New York yesterday, visiting the Xavier Institute. They are each on edge to some degree. Something about a recent kidnapping in the family. None of them know for sure, but there are rumors. She plans on visiting the Academy of Tomorrow later this week. She plays cards with two of them sometimes and almost always wins. Category:Log